


Dreaming

by sparxwrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Falling In Love, Flying, Gen, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, Self-esteem issues by the bucketload, falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you dream of?”</p>
<p>“Flying. Without wings.”</p>
<p>“…Isn’t that just the same thing as falling?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Settling firmly with the #I blame Cales tag for this one.

“What do you dream of?” asks Sam one day, face open, voice curious. There’s no pretence there, no ulterior motive, and maybe that’s why Gabriel doesn’t lie when he answers.

There’s silence for a long moment, heavy, awkward. “Flying. Without wings,” says Gabriel eventually, uncomfortable, not entirely sure why he’s told the truth (or part of the truth, a tiny little sliver that is nonetheless sharp and dangerous) and bared a little of his soul (a soul that he doesn’t have) to the hunter. It seems stupid, in retrospect, but the words have been said and he can’t take them back.

He waits for the mocking, for Sam to start crooning lyrics to an old pop song between bouts of laughter – it’s inevitable, really, he walked right into that one. He wouldn’t blame the hunter in the slightest for not taking him seriously, considering how rarely he’s serious about anything.

Sam doesn’t start laughing.

He frowns for a moment, opens his mouth, hesitates, closes it again. Gabriel is inscrutable at the best of times, obscenely cheerful and unbelievably taciturn by equal measure, and the smallest phrase can set him off. Eventually, though, Sam manages to pick out what he hopes are the right words. “…Isn’t that just the same thing as falling?” he asks slowly, eyes soft and concerned.

There’s no answer to that. Not for a long time Gabriel doesn’t have one, didn’t expect the question. Didn’t expect Sam to care. But then, this is Sam, who cares too much for his own good and has a heart far too big for a hunter. The man who shows compassion to monsters.

(Gabriel includes himself in that number.)

“Gabriel?” murmurs Sam, the frown more pronounced, worry creeping over his face. Worry that he may have disturbed the sleeping beast, thinks Gabriel viciously, sharp with self-loathing, although he knows that’s not the case. “Are you okay?”  
“Yes,” he Gabriel, lost, lying – it’s a lie, always a lie, but he is a Trickster after all. Telling the truth would never do, because who knows what might come falling out of his mouth? And then, “Yes. It is falling.”

He doesn’t hang around to see Sam’s reaction. He doesn’t want understanding, doesn’t need pity, doesn’t deserve sympathy.

(He wants Sam, though, wants his warmth and his noise and his soft brown eyes and ridiculous hair and the roughness of his skin against-)

He doesn’t deserve sympathy.


End file.
